My name is Angel, the Christmas Angel. Yeah I know, Angel the angel. I got that a lot in flight school. I’m the angel in charge of Christmas spirit in the northeast quadrant of North America. In fact, I’m related to Clarence the angel in “It’s A Wonderful Life” on my mother’s side. He’s got his wings now and is in charge of the Mid East. He’s about ready to quit and bomb everybody himself.

I come down here once a year to instill a little Christmas spirit into the crass commercialism that big business has crammed into your Christmas. How do I do that? Well, I fly around up here looking down on you and… Excuse me a minute. I see something. Gotta go.

Sorry about that, I spotted a lost child, separated from her mother at the East Mall in the crush of the crowd. There was a man watching the little girl way too closely and he was hurrying toward her like a hawk diving on a mouse. I swooped down to turn the mother’s head just in time to see her baby crying next to the Aunt Annie's Pretzels. She’s hugging her little girl now like she was the best Christmas gift ever. The man disappears into the crowd.

I hate to brag, but I’m the one who puts the bug in the ear of the TV network honchos to run those old Frosty the Snowman and Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer Christmas cartoons every year. The toons may be primitive animation, but they’re timeless and touch the child in you baby boomers in your peak earning years for the advertisers. And that’s what Christmas is- timeless, childlike and holy… cow gotta go again.

I’m back now. I was just sunning myself on a cumulus cloud when I noticed an echo empty Salvation Army kettle outside of Wal-Mart. So I flew down there to bump some pockets and jingle some change to remind you shoppers to give to the less fortunate this time of year.

But my best flights are when I soar into your fleeting thoughts and make you curb your tongue, swallow your pride and forgive your family and friends for all the wrongs they did to you this past year. So you can clasp them to your bosom like a too tight t-shirt.

Gotta go, got an SOS financial crisis going down. Wow, I'm back! Sometimes this job is just too much for any single Christmas angel. I zoomed down to City Hall where Mayor Linda Thompson was shouting for Santa to grant her a half billion bucks to bail out Harrisburg and for any of her future back taxes and to give her a pony. I texted Santa and got a big Ho Ho No No, and he texted back that he'll put a lump of coal into her pantyhose hung by the copy machine, just like last year.

I ran into Rick Santorum while I was down there and he begged to be taken seriously as a presidential candidate. I told him that not even Santa Claus has that much power.

I hover here to remind you that you never know who’ll be around to share next Christmas with you. Always cherish Christmas with your loved ones like it was your last, because someday it will be. I get estranged sisters talking to each other. I make mad husbands kiss their angry wives under the mistletoe and I even cause children to be considerate of their parents, an even bigger miracle.

I fill your hearts with the spirit of forgiving and giving. It keeps the shoppers happy and the economy going. It gives children their first puppies, girls their engagement rings and dads bad ties. I help to pick the perfect Christmas tree with your spouse without having to file for divorce. If you don’t hang your stockings by the chimney with care, I re-hang them for you. I find you parking spaces in packed mall parking lots after only 15 minutes of driving up and down looking.

I bring grown children back to their parents, sisters to their brothers and crazy aunts and uncles to your homes for the holidays. I get everyone flying and driving all over the country to return to their roots once a year, no matter how embarrassing that may be to them. I help get you hugs and kisses from your past life by lassoing old loyalties, that then tug at your heart strings and go ping, ping, Cherie.

Look there’s Hank who’s 100. He’s outlived everyone he loves and loved him. He’s sharing the holidays with some wet adult diapers and a nurse’s aid at the home. Do you see that small smile sneaking across his face? He’s five years old and it’s Christmas day with his long dead parents. The turkey is basting and the pies are baking. He and his ghost brothers and sisters are tearing into their presents under the tree. His first dog Princie is licking his face.

Everyone is laughing and so is Hank because he’s having the best Christmas of his life… again. I did this.

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